Edge
by CrimsonC
Summary: An infamous mercenary with her own agenda faces an infuriating destiny that she wants nothing to do with. Will her allies change her mind in time?
1. Origins

/AN: I know I'm still in the middle of my Twilight story, but I have many stories like this one that are in progress that I work on from time to time. I'm not done with Twilight (so don't panic) but I thought I'd give you guys something more to read since I post so sporadically. If you guys like this story I'll post more/

/DICLAIMER: I didn't invent any Elder Scrolls worlds/dialogue/characters/locations/items/etc./

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Dusk had long passed. Snowflakes whirled and fluttered in the intemperate gusts that shook and bent the aging evergreens that were clustered along the gradually steepening earth. The path was buried deep beneath the settling powder, both air and ground a dizzying white. The only break in color was the ebony shadows and unending grey above. The rusty light of Masser could not break through the icy clouds, making the versant bleak and the swirling white hypnotic.

Rosalia stumbled forward, her numb legs carrying her deeper into the woods. Behind her she heard creaking and groaning, likely the trees and the earth whispering complaints to the sky, but the sounds played with her head and urged her forward. Imagining gnashing teeth or violent men with maces and arrows, her rapid, short breaths sending plumes of barely visible vapor into the expansive colorlessness as she forced her tired body forward.

She couldn't remember how long she'd been outside, or what direction she had come from. The lack of variation around her made her wonder if she was even moving at all, if she was somehow trapped on a small portion of oblivion, doomed to walk and never arrive anywhere. She'd heard stories of strong warriors that had been lost in storms like this one and never found, maybe this was where they all went, forced into eternal listless wandering. She was beginning to think that her version of reality, her home, her family, summer nights spent with her brother chasing torchbugs and autumn mornings accompanying her mother to the city, all this was simply an illusion, cast by some demented wizard and that somehow, on this night, she'd broken the spell and been tossed into cold, lonely truth.

Her frightening thoughts came to a crashing halt as she tripped over a felled tree that had been hidden by the veil of white and collapsed face first into something large and hairy. The creature, startled awake by her sudden entrance, jumped to its feet and turned to face her, growling in low disapproval. Shivering from cold and terror, Rosalia scrambled to her feet and, with a ripping scream, ran as fast as she could. The trees were thicker here, growing close and tangling together. The branches caught her hair and coat and the exposed, twisted roots seemed to find purpose in tripping her. The approaching beast was also being stalled by the gnarled wood.

With surprising suddenness, Rosalia fell into an unexpected clearing. She gasped as though she had been dropped into an icy lake and quickly crawled away from the forest edge. Behind her was a giant grey mass, as though the mountaintop had come crashing down and landed here, levelling this part of the woods. Indeed, the trees that clearly used to grow here had been trampled, some even burnt black and still steaming. Just as her back made contact with the stony silhouette, her pursuer crashed through the trees, looking as startled as she had been to find a sudden release from the claustrophobic conifers.

Apparently unnerved by the suddenly unfamiliar surroundings, the sabre paced around the edge and growled in frustration at the young girl. Rosalia sat gasping, trapped by the sheer wall behind her and incapable of dashing back into the woods. With a final snarl of impatience, the sabre turned to face her and leapt. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth was open in a silent scream, terror ravaging her mind and body. She could not move. Suddenly, she felt the wall shake and give way behind her, shifting and moving with speed greater than that of the wild cat, which was caught midair by a jagged, pointed end of the rock. It dangled madly and tried to free itself with its hind paws, its claws clinking uselessly off the metallic like face.

Rosalia watched in paralyzed wonder as the one huge eye she could see glanced down at her. The beast quickly returned its attention to the prey that still hung from its jaws. The sabre had managed to hook a claw into one of the flared nostrils at the end of the long muzzle. With a sneeze that expressed only slight annoyance, the beast tossed the sabre into the air, where it flailed its clumsy limbs for a few seconds before the monstrous teeth closed around it once more. A sickening crunch bounced off the trees and echoed in the now silent clearing, the sabre's limp body staining the blanket of snow with pools of blood. It was gone in an instant, devoured in a swallow as though it consisted of little more than a berry.

The beast now turned its full attention to Rosalia, turning and curling its body around her, blocking her completely in. With gentle slowness it lowered its great head to her level, blood still drying on its partially open mouth. She could see her reflection in its huge glassy eyes as it pressed its muzzle to her stomach and inhaled. With a sigh of mild irritation, it unfolded one of its wings, blocking the steady snowfall. What little light there had been now vanished, everything now cast in almost complete blackness.

It raised its head a little, forcing her to look up to meet its gaze, "Mey bron… 'built for cold' and yet you seem little more than a twig,"

His voice was deep and animalistic, yet clear and unmistakable.

"You… speak,"

"Speak? Geh… I can speak. Your tinvaak is… simple compared mine,"

"What are you?"

The beast laughed, his teeth bared in amusement, "Ahh, I'd almost forgotten the unabashed curiosity of the kiir… I am of the Dov… I am a dragon,"

"A dragon that can talk?"

"Indeed,"

She thought for a moment, "But I thought the dragons vanished… Sabul says that men destroyed the most powerful dragon before I was even born! He says that the rest started to disappear after that,"

Again, the dragon laughed, "All that time ago?"

Rosalia nodded fervently, "Sabul said it was years and years ago, but you're still here?"

"Yes, it was many years… thousands, I'm told, but I've lost count… I remain, alone,"

"Alone? There's no other dragons left?"

He sighed, "No more questions. You should go home, you are not suited for this storm. Even your coat serves you little warmth,"

"But-"

"Do not argue," He rose again, uncurling himself and stretching.

Cold wind rushed back and nearly knocked her over and the snow from his wings and back scattered over her head as he moved.

"But I-"

"Must I eat you as well?" He whipped his head around to face her again, startling her off her feet.

"Wait!" she clambered desperately away from him, holding her hands up, "I-I'm lost! I don't know the way home..."

She backed into a tree, knocking snow off a low hanging branch and onto her head. She squeaked in shock and immediately began to shiver again as she shook the snow from her hair and coat. The dragon sighed, as though in defeat.

"Come," he sat down, his wings draping down to the ground. When she hesitated he chuckled, "I won't eat you… Nord meat is far too tough and stringy,"

"Really?" She took a cautious step towards him, "Promise?"

His composure seemed to soften at this, "I promise,"

Apparently satisfied with this, Rosalia stepped timidly under his towering form, again shielded from the constantly falling snow. She sat down and tucked her knees to her chest, shivering, and looked up at him. While she had settled in, he had pulled one of the damaged trees over to rest in front of them.

"Tell me, kiir… what are you called?"

"You mean my name? Rosalia Astalith…"

"Rosalia. It suits you," he took a deep breath and reared his head like a viper, "Yol Toor Shul!"

The sudden volume in his voice startled her, but not nearly as much as the flame that erupted from his mouth. The fire engulfed the tree almost instantly.

"Woah…" she watched the fire for a few moments in stunned silence, the seeping cold forgotten in her warm refuge, "How did you do that?"

"It is called a Thu'um… a shout. It's a part of my language,"

"Will you teach me your language?"

He chuckled as he watched the snow fall, "In time, perhaps,"

"What would my name be in your language?"

"Dragon names are usually composed of three rotte… words. Ro Sah Lein would be nearest to your name in our tongue. Balance Phantom World,"

"That doesn't sound like a name at all!"

He hummed in amusement, "Dragon names have more meaning to them than a mere title. Those words are literal translations. Ro Sah Lein would be taken to mean 'One who finds peace with body and soul'"

"Oh… mother told me I was named after a plant, but I like this one better,"

"They are gein… one. They are identical in meaning, one does not supersede the other,"

She looked away from the fire and back up at him, "Sabul told me my name means 'love'," she grumbled in disgust, "That's not the same,"

The dragon began to laugh again, "This Sabul seems to know many things. Perhaps he is telling you what he does not yet understand. Who is he?"

"He's my big brother. He was almost thirteen when I was finally born. He left a few months ago to 'make a difference' he said. Mother cried when he left, and we don't talk about him anymore. He's very smart though. He used to go with my father on his journeys to the distant holds. He met a Khajiit once!"

"Ahh, the Kaaz. Quite the discovery for a young Nord,"

Rosalia giggled, "He was so excited, too. I was only 5 then and he thought he was so grown up, 18 and ready to fix the world… that was four years ago,"

"Your brother sounds brave," the dragon finally looked down at her, a kind sadness in his eyes.

She nodded, "Oh, he is! Bravest Nord in all of Skyrim! I hope you meet him someday. He wouldn't have run from that sabre…"

They fell silent, both watching the fire grow dim. It wasn't until the embers began to fade that either spoke again.

"You never told me your name," Rosalia whispered, her eyes only half open.

The dragon stretched, flexing his wings and sighing, "We should get you home. Come,"

With a flap of his wings he buried the smoldering embers in powder, sending flurries up to meet the swirling snowflakes. He then lowered himself back to the earth, his head level with her. With minimal hesitation she raised her arms above her head and tried to pull herself up over his neck. He was laughing again as she tried to scramble up his scales, her feet slipping with every miscalculated step.

"You are so small, Rosalia. Let me help you, mal gein,"

With precision and ease he caught her coat collar between his teeth and lifted her from the ground. She giggled as the tiredness left her, exhilaration pounding in her ears. When he placed her on a tree branch and met her excited gaze she was beaming from ear to ear.

"That was amazing!" She squealed as she clung to the branch.

He lined himself up with the branch as he chuckled, "You have no natural fear of high places… pruzah,"

She slid from the branch to the back of his neck and leaned forward to wrap her arms as far around him as they would go, which was not far.

"Thank you…"

The dragon seemed a little taken aback, "For what?"

"You rescued me,"

To this he chuckled, "You would no doubt have found a way out of this strun on your own, I merely got in the way,"

"But-"

"Drem, mal gein… you owe me nothing," He turned from the trees to face the mountain and stretched his wings, "Hold on,"

With that, he leapt into the air, sending dizzy swirls of powder and snowflake in all directions as his wings beat against the rough torrents of wind. With frozen fingers, Rosalia clung to a set of horns on the dragon's head, gravity pushing her down against him. Higher and higher they rose, surpassing the mountain's height and still rising. She watched as the ground shrank beneath them, great distances becoming small gaps of space until all sight of the earth was lost in the white storm. This new blindness only lasted moments, as suddenly, they burst through the clouds and levelled out.

"Woah…" Rosalia said again, able to sit up and look around now that the pressure was eased. The sky above was crystal clear, the stars shining as they always had and the moons riding close to the horizon.

"Where do you live, kiir?"

"I live…" She tried to peer around below them, but the ground that she could make out looked unfamiliar from this height, "In Whiterun… not the city, but in a cottage between the city and Riverwood,"

"Is that near Monahven? The Throat of the World?"

"Y-yeah, we're close to the base of the mountain. Father says it's to our Southeast… I think,"

"I see…" He inhaled deeply, "Lok Vah Koor!"

The clouds seemed to scatter in fear at his voice and the mountain came back into view, along with the city of Whiterun, lit up by those who patrolled at this time. Rosalia tried to follow the road with her eyes, winding her way down to Riverwood and then back, trying to spot her home.

"There!" She declared, leaning and pointing down to a small, wooden cottage to the North. Immediately he dove in the direction she indicated, apparently enjoying this short flight as much as she was. Rosalia cheered and squealed, adrenaline coursing back into her veins as they picked up speed.

It was with unexpected silence that they landed behind the cottage, not even disturbing the jumpy family cow that was asleep in its stall. With ease, Rosalia slid to the ground, trying to suppress her excited giggling.

"That was great!" she whispered, "Can we do this every day?"

The dragon chuckled, "I'm glad you enjoyed it… but sorrowfully, I must return to where I belong," he brought himself up to his full height and opened his wings.

"Wait!" she ran forward a few steps, her hands in the air. He brought his head back down to her height, gently pushing her back with his muzzle.

Instantly she fell against his snout, clinging to him, "Will I ever see you again?"

"Perhaps… one day. Go now,"

With a resigned sigh, she let him go and walked in defeat towards the house but stopped after only a few steps and whirled around to face him again, "Tell me, dov… what are you called?" she crossed her arms over her chest with a devious smirk.

He chuckled, his eyes glinting as he spread his wings again, "Paarthurnax,"

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/AN: Please favorite, follow, and review/


	2. Unbound

/AN: Here's another chapter because I'm kinda stuck on my other one/

/DISCLAIMER: I don't own Elder Scrolls/

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A harsh rattling and intermittent shaking woke Rosalia from her deep slumber. She mumbled groggily and tried to squint through the bright light of a day that had almost completely snuck by her. She was shocked to see the day so quickly spent, as she was often diligent about waking before her clients. Not nearly as shocked, however, when she tried to sit up and found her hands tightly bound at the wrists. This was not the first time she had been taken hostage, so she remained calm. It was, however, the first time she had been rendered completely harmless without being disturbed from her sleep. In her puddle of blurry confusion, she struggled up into a sitting position, pushing against the splintering planks with her bound hands.

Another violent jostle nearly sent her tumbling to the ground, which was followed by a gentle, mildly amused chuckle. Peering desperately around her as her vision slowly cleared, she began to recognize that she was on a moving wagon with three other bound hostages.

"So, you're finally awake, then," the man across from her observed, eyeing her in what she assumed to be a quizzical manner, "You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us," he paused again, his eyes lingering on the locket strung around her neck, "and that thief over there,"

He nodded his head to his left, gesturing to the man diagonally across from her. The thief cursed under his breath before turning to the man addressing him.

"Skyrim was fine until you lot came around. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been half way to Hammerfell," he turned to Rosalia, "You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants,"

Seemingly aggravated by this bold claim, the first man glared down at the thief, "We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief!"

"Shut up back there!" the driver called from the front.

Rosalia's mind raced in the few moments of quiet that followed this order. Her memory was fuzzy with images that must have only been a few days old. She could clearly remember revisiting her existing contract with her current client, Do'arra, sitting down in her small tent and discussing their conditions. Do'arra had mentioned something in Ta'agra to her silent business partner about a caravan leader in Skyrim named Ma'dran, unaware that Rosalia had begun to pick up the language due to her extended travels throughout Elsweyr and her many contracts with the caravans in Skyrim. She remembered Ma'dran and, quite boldly, asked if she could join them on their return trip to Skyrim. Her employers were shocked to find that she could even marginally understand their language, their private conversation fractured by her intrusion. Do'arra was not happy to learn of this and Rosalia could remember her being angry and threatening to fire her, accusing her of eavesdropping and deceiving them.

"What's wrong with him?" the thief broke her concentration with his question, staring pointedly at the gagged man across from him.

Apparently, he had found another nerve to poke at for the first man, who responded with a venomous hint to his voice, "Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King,"

Rosalia raised her eyebrows in surprise, eyeing the alleged Jarl with careful unease and curiosity.

"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm?" the thief seemed to be spiraling into a sickening reality, "You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they captured you… oh gods, where are they taking us?"

"I don't know where we're going," the first man replied, his tone soft again, "but Sovngarde awaits,"

Rosalia took a deep breath, resigned to remain calm. Her mind was already fast at work, calculating the chances of escape. She quickly tossed that idea away, becoming keenly aware of the parade of wagons around them, many carrying troupes of armed Imperial soldiers. Her next option would be to convince the guards of the mistake. She would need to talk to someone in power, though, someone who would be able to grant her freedom, or at least leniency.

"What's your name, friend?"

Slightly agitated to be torn from her thoughts again, Rosalia glared at the man across from her, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

"Yes you," the man smirked.

"I do not know you. We are not friends,"

Rather than getting annoyed with her, like he had with the thief, he began to laugh, "There's no need for hostility. You are here alone. And, despite your calm, I'd wager you've never been arrested before. All of these red-clad soldiers see you as a criminal. When it comes to your friends here, I'm the closest thing you've got,"

She thought for a few moments, "We are being carted, carried, led away to our deaths. Like cattle, dragged to the slaughterhouse," the thief groaned and began mumbling, "and you want to make small talk?"

"Not an optimist than?" he laughed again, earning an exasperated head shake from his leader, "Come now. There is no harm in asking, is there?"

She sighed, "I suppose not. I am called Asta,"

Shocked silence followed her claim, each of her fellow-bound exchanging inquisitive and cautious glances. Even Ulfric gave her an impressed glance. Or perhaps it was disgust.

"You're Roseheart?"

She was surprised to discover they had heard of her. She had not expected her last job in Skyrim to create such waves. Or, perhaps, they happened to be in a small group of people who had heard of her, and her reputation was not as widely spread as it seemed.

When she did not answer immediately, the thief groaned again, "Hope dwindles…"

The man across from her was still staring expectantly, however, silently demanding verification. With a resigned eyeroll, Rosalia turned so that he could see her left shoulder, tattooed with a mercenary emblem of an open-winged falcon. She then redirected his gaze to the locket that had captured his attention earlier. Upon closer inspection, he could see it was in the shape of a heart, tangled in thorn ridden vines and tiny budding flowers.

"So, you are…" he thought in silence for a few seconds before meeting her gaze once more, "I am Ralof. Well met,"

"Likewise," with that, she returned to her ponderings, gazing up the road in the direction they were headed and visibly removing herself from any further conversation.

They travelled on in a tense quiet, the thief whispering prayers, Ralof and Ulfric occasionally exchanging glances, and Rosalia deep in thought. They rounded a corner and crossed a bluff before anyone struck up anymore conversation.

"Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?"

Mid-prayer, the thief met Ralof's gaze with a tense discomfort, "Why do you care?"

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home,"

Rosalia's mind suddenly swirled with thoughts of her childhood. Once again bombarded with uninvited interruption, she sighed in discontent.

"Rorikstead. I'm… I'm from Rorikstead,"

Stiff, heavy silence reigned once more as they neared the gates of a prominent village, walled and towered and surrounded by patrolling guardsmen clad in red armour. The huge gap in her memory was starting to concern her. She could not recall the raid that Ralof had mentioned, nor her intention to cross the border. The caravan she had been working for had planned on remaining in Cyrodiil for a few more months. She could not even remember going to sleep.

As they crossed under the front gates, one of the patrolling guards called out in greeting. The wagon slowed considerably at this point, the horse mindful of his hoof falls and the myriad of people walking about him.

"General Tullius, sir!" a soldier called, "The headsman is waiting!"

"Good. Let's get this over with," the general answered from horseback at the head of the parade of wagons.

The thief groaned again and returned to his fervent praying, rocking back and forth on the bench.

Rosalia watched curiously as Tullius left the line to greet a group of heavily armored soldiers standing just inside the walls. If there was anyone who would be able to help her, it was this man.

"Look at him," Ralof's voice was low with disgust, "General Tullius the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him," he cursed under his breath, "I bet they had something to do with this,"

Rosalia eyed him as he glared at the Imperial General until the wagon rounded a corner. He sighed and then began to observe the buildings around them.

"This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here… Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in," he sighed again and finally met Rosalia's gaze, "It's funny… when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe,"

She nodded in understanding, "From this angle, they seem… ominous, don't they?"

He grunted in solemn agreement as they passed several houses and villagers.

"Who are they, daddy?" a boy suddenly called from the front porch of a house, "Where are they going?"

Bitter memories suddenly stung through Rosalia's mind as she met the boys curious gaze.

"You need to go inside, little cub," the boy's father replied.

"Why? I want to watch the soldiers,"

"Inside the house. Now,"

The house was quickly out of view and the family out of hearing range as the wagons proceeded to the far wall of the upper village, stopping in a dismal row of doomed men and women. Several of the guards who jogged up to help maintain order stood stalk still in shock when they saw the last wagon.

"Whoa…" one gaped shamelessly at the finely dressed jarl.

"Wh… why are we stopping?" the thief seemed to be brought harshly out of his desperate praying.

"Why do you think?" Ralof replied, "End of the line,"

The guards seemed to finally regain composure and began climbing up at the front of the wagons to herd the prisoners out.

"March, prisoners!" the rather burly one that had picked their wagon ordered in a booming voice.

Ralof sighed, "Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us,"

As Rosalia, Ralof, and Ulfric stood calmly to face their guardsmen, the thief threw himself out of the wagon in a wild panic.

"No! Wait! We're not rebels!"

"Face your death with some courage, thief," Ralof called in disdain.

The guards halted their progress until this outburst could be brought under control. The thief turned with desperation back to Ulfric.

"You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!"

Two guardsmen grabbed him by each arm, subduing him, and the unloading proceeded. An Imperial Captain stood a few paces behind the wagons with an armed guard aside her, who was holding some important looking documents in his hand.

"Step toward the block when we call your name. One at a time!" the captain ordered, her voice harsh.

Ulfric, at the back of the wagon, exited first, his feet landing solidly as he met the ground. He was guided forward by the shepherding guardsmen to stand and wait for his name to be called. Ralof followed his superior, a dignified calm in his step. Rosalia stumbled a little as she neared the edge of the wagon. She had never been expected to walk with her hands bound before, and it was admittedly more difficult than it seemed. She was ever aware of her inability to catch herself if she were to fall and her childhood clumsiness seemed to be rearing its ugly head. Inch by inch, she shuffled forward, keenly sensitive to the impatient, beefy guard behind her, ushering her forward.

It seemed that hours were passing. The other wagons were now empty, and a crowd of prisoners stood ready to be sentenced, while Rosalia felt the irritated glares from guards and prisoners alike. Ralof and Ulfric turned to glance back at her, the former with an impatient look and the latter with perhaps a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. She had to focus, however, so she payed them little attention. She could hear the soldier behind her sigh in a growling sort of manner and quickly tried to determine exactly how to get to the ground without hurting herself.

She had waded in the tempestuous pool of this soldier's patience for a moment too long, however, for it was with vile rage that he stomped forward, shaking the entire wagon, and placed a giant, meaty hand on her shoulder.

"Move!" he ordered, giving her what he might have expected to be a rough push toward the wagon end.

Instead, however, he sent the slight girl tumbling out of the wagon and into the crowd of waiting prisoners. With a groan, she tried to get up. She had landed on something firm and strong, but she had expected the cobble road to cause much more damage and pain. She opened her eyes, for she had closed them in fright as she fell, to find herself staring into a pair of stormy blue ones.

She blinked in surprise and found herself unable to move in her shock. Ulfric had been standing several feet away from the wagon and now, here he was, barely a foot from it and shielding Rosalia from the rough, stony road beneath him. She could feel his hands wriggling slowly between them, near the middle of her cuirass, where her belt crossed her stomach. Her eyes widened with realization and wonder. This was not a man who intended to die today. His eyes still glinting with mischief and amusement, he gave her a covert wink just before she was hoisted off of him by a pair of sturdy arms.

The man who brought her to her feet again was the soldier who had been standing near the captain, his trusty list still clutched in his left hand. He turned to the still chuckling guard who had pushed her.

"What sort of image are you trying to apply to the cause we're working towards?" he asked, his voice bringing tense silence to all of the amused soldiers.

He made sure that she had regained her footing before helping Ulfric to his feet as well and then returned to his post.

"At ease, Soldier, he was having a bit of fun," The captain reprimanded when he had unrolled his list.

The soldier frowned, but did not meet her eyes, "Yes ma'am,"

She nodded in satisfaction, "Proceed,"

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm,"

The Jarl nodded respectfully to the soldier and then allowed himself to be led towards the block.

"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!" Ralof declared grimly.

"Ralof of Riverwood,"

He then went to go stand near the block as well.

"Lokir of Rorikstead,"

"No, I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" he fought against his captors and then broke into a sprint down the road, in the direction they came in.

"Halt!" The captain ordered as a flurry of soldiers made to chase after him, bringing them to a stop.

"You're not gonna kill me!" Lokir called as he made to round the corner.

"Archers!"

In an instant, the thief lay bleeding in the road, several arrows piercing through his torso and head.

"Anyone else feel like running?" the captain challenged, eyeing the prisoners.

They then returned to the list, sorting through the dwindling arrested. Finally, only Rosalia remained. With confusion the soldier motioned her forward.

"Who are you?"

She thought for a moment, still not sure if she should be trying to convince them that they had made a mistake or if she should wait to see what would happen.

"My name is Rosalia… I work as a mercenary for hire,"

"I see,"

"Rebellion in such need of soldiers that they're bribing them now?" the captain sneered, "Why are you questioning her, Hadvar, why this delay?"

"She's not on the list,"

"Forget the list. She goes to the block," the captain than marched away.

The soldier turned back to her, "I'm sorry. At least you'll die here, in your homeland," he motioned for her to follow the captain.

"Sir, I am not a lawbreaker. I do not work for these men. I don't remember how I got here or why I was arrested. I haven't been given a trial, I—"

"I'm sorry, miss, I can't help you. Please, follow the captain,"

She nodded in understanding, which seemed to surprise the soldier, and then turned to follow her captor to the small crowd that had formed around the chopping block. General Tullius was in the center of the crowd, pacing in front of the prisoners.

"Ulfric Stormcloak," He stopped in front of the Jarl, "Some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne,"

Ulfric growled from underneath his gag, clearly protesting this claim but unable to speak.

"You started this war," the general continued, "Plunged Skyrim into chaos and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace,"

A gentle rumbling shook the ground, like that of the distant tremors of an earthquake. The crowd grew silent and turned their heads to the sky, peering at the mountain.

"What was that?"

"It's nothing," the general claimed, returning attention to the matter at hand, "Carry on,"

"Yes, General Tullius," the captain turned to a nearby priestess, "Give them their last rites,"

The priestess stepped forward and outstretched her hands toward the prisoners, "'As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the' Eight 'Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved—'"

One of the prisoners stepped forward impatiently and interrupted the priestess, "For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with,"

"As you wish…" the priestess lowered her hands to her sides and stepped back.

The prisoner kneeled before the chopping block and was pushed down upon it until his shoulders bore his weight and his head hung over the edge.

"My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" He demanded as the headsman raised the axe above his head.

Rosalia flinched and turned her head away as the axe swung down. She heard the crunch of metal on bone and the sickening smell of blood filled her lungs. The crowd erupted in protests and shouts of approval, a chaotic swirling noise that added to her newfound nausea.

"Next, the rogue merc!" The captain called.

Panic finally began to swell in her chest, her heart pounding against her ribcage. She flashed a glance at Ulfric, her gaze a desperate, silent plea for help. Another roaring filled the sky, drawing everyone's attention towards the mountain once more. In that split second of distraction, she saw Ufric drop his bindings, draw a small concealed dagger from his boot, cut Ralof's bind in a discreet place, and then hide the knife and rewrap his hands. He nodded at her, like a silent promise that he would do his best, and then looked upward as though he too had been distracted by the much nearer cry.

"There it is again. Did you hear that?" The soldier asked.

"I said, 'next prisoner'!" The captain declared.

The soldier gave a resigned sigh and turned to face Rosalia, "To the block, Prisoner. Nice and easy,"

She stepped shakily forward, her breathing rapid. She allowed herself to be forced down upon the block, still warm blood plastering to her skin and filling her nostrils. She was facing the headsman, her eyes widening as he brought his axe up once more. She then saw something massive soar over the mountains to the south, heading straight for Helgen, a thundering roar proceeding it.

"What in Oblivion is that?" General Tullius called in shock.

Eyes returned to the sky as the crowd was tossed into a panic.

"Sentries!" the captain called, "What do you see?"

"It's in the clouds!"

The huge beast landed on the tower, shaking the ground and sending crumbling bits of stone flying towards the shocked onlookers. Everything was still for a sliver of time, until a scream tore through the air and the beast unhinged its jaw and sent an invisible force into the square, killing several men including the headsman. Rosalia was sent tumbling away, her vision blurring and her ears roaring. She felt someone hoist her up to her feet.

"Can you stand? We have to hurry, the gods won't give us another chance,"

She recognized Ralof's voice and allowed him to guide her quickly into a tower where several other prisoners were hiding. He let her go once the reached the entrance, allowing her to stumble to the wall to catch her breath.

"Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?"

"Legends don't burn down villages," the Jarl answered solemnly.

"Dragon…" Rosalia mumbled, shock slowing her thoughts considerably, "Another… he said… the last,"

Ralof turned to her in concern, "Asta? What's wrong with her?"

"She's in shock," Ulfric answered, "We need to move, now!"

"Up through the tower. Let's go! This way, friend!" Ralof led her up the spiraling steps to where a few Stormcloaks were moving rubble out of the way.

The tower began to shake and Ralof suddenly doubled back, "Move! Get back!"

The soldiers either didn't hear him, or didn't care, but the wall of the tower suddenly erupted, and the dragon's massive head poked through the hole.

"Toor Shul!" he growled, sending fire blasting into the tower, killing the soldiers who survived the tumbling stone.

The dragon then turned to face Rosalia, who was being held up and half protected by Ralof. It was possible that he intended to kill her right then, but his talon must have slipped on the loosening stones of the tower, for he tumbled clumsily away from them and flew a great circle around the village. Rolaf dragged her up the remaining steps to peer out of the massive hole.

"See the inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going!"

She turned to him, shaking her head, "I-I can't!"

He turned her back to face the inn, "You have to. Go! We'll follow when we can!"

She stood gasping for a few moments before she squeezed her eyes closed and jumped as far as she could. Pain seared through her as her arm and face were scraped by smoldering lumber, but she had made it. She clambered to her feet and stumbled her way out of the crumbling inn. She heard distant shouting and followed the sound, trying desperately to determine which direction she should be taking. She came upon a small group of people trying to coax a boy out of the road and under some cover. She recognized the Imperial soldier from before as the only armed man of the group. He could protect her.

"Hamming, you need to get over here now!" the soldier called as she approached.

The boy finally darted back to the group and they all ducked behind a house as the dragon landed in the very spot the boy had been.

"Thataboy, you're doing great," the soldier encouraged, trying to keep him calm as the dragon trampled a wounded man that lay in the street, "Torolf! Gods… everyone stay back!"

The dragon sent a huge blast of fire billowing into the building they hid behind before it took off into the air once more. The soldier then turned to Rosalia, seemingly to suddenly notice her presence.

"Still alive, prisoner? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way," he then turned to the man behind him, "Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defense,"

"Gods guide you, Hadvar," the man replied, his hands on the boy's shoulders.

The soldier than led Rosalia forward, not waiting to see if she would follow him. They crossed the street carefully and squeezed into an alley, where he paused and peered around the corner.

"Stay close to the wall!" he ordered.

Rosalia immediately flattened herself to the stone wall, her heart pounding. Just above her, the dragon landed and reared his head in a thundering roar.

"Vol Tor Shul!"

She could hear people screaming on the other side of the wall as the dragon took off.

"Quickly, follow me!"

They continued, weaving their way around soldiers that were attempting in vein to keep the dragon at bay. Several were calling out final farewells as they lost consciousness on the field or as they saw death closing in on them.

"Hadvar!" Tullius suddenly came into view, "Into the keep, soldier, we're leaving!"

Upon receiving this order, the soldier redirected his steps and led the way to the towering keep across the field of fallen and helpless.

"It's you and me, prisoner! Stay close!"

She stumbled after him, trying to ignore the horrid sights and sounds around her and the intrusive scent of burning flesh. As they reached the keep's courtyard, Ralof entered through the opposite entrance.

The two immediately stood stark still and began to argue, five feet apart, as fire and death rained down around them. Rosalia was suddenly brought back to reality, her panic breaking and her instinct kicking in as adrenaline coursed through her body.

"You absolute idiots! There is a dragon destroying this village as we speak! Inside. Now," She threw her weight against the Imperial soldier, her hands still bound and useless, forcing him forward.

She glared at Ralof until he followed, the three of them pushing through the keep doors and slamming them closed once they were safe inside. Rosalia paced the circular room, checking their exit points as the boys caught their breath and glared daggers at each other behind her. She then turned and marched up to them.

"Untie me," she ordered, holding up her hands.

Ralof drew his dagger and stepped forward as the soldier inspected the locked door, "This would be our way out… the gate over there only leads back through to the square… how do you suppose we get this open?"

"Well not by talking our way through it," Ralof replied, distracted from his task.

"There must be a key somewhere…" the Imperial continued, ignoring Ralof and beginning to search the room.

Ralof followed him with a disdainful glare, his hands pausing their search for a loose piece of cloth in Rosalia's binds, "Yeah, in some Imperial Dog's pocket, no doubt. As far away and as useless to us as possible,"

When the soldier continued to ignore him, Ralof sighed and opened his mouth to continue, but Rosalia spoke first.

"Ralof?"

He looked at her as though he'd forgotten she was there, "Hm?'

"Today please?" she waved her hands in front of him impatiently.

"Oh! Right…" He slid the blade between the layers of cloth and easily cut her loose.

She gripped at her raw wrists and sighed in relief, "Thank you,"

She turned to see the Imperial pull a simple sword from a splintering weapon rack on the wall. It was rusty and had nicks in the blade, but it still looked sharp. He walked over to the two of them and offered Rosalia the hilt.

"Do you know how to use one of these?"

Ralof nearly choked on his laughter behind her.

"Yes," she answered with a reassuring nod and kind smile, taking the sword, "Thank you,"

Ralof regained himself, "Wait, you were serious?"

Finally, the Imperial acknowledged him, "Yes,"

"Do you not know who this is?"

The soldier was slow to answer, sensing that he was somehow missing something, "A hired mercenary taken prisoner for being in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

"So, you know she's a mercenary, at least,"

"Yes,"

Ralof seemed to be waiting for him to realize it himself, but quickly lost patience, "This is Asta—Roseheart,"

The soldier blinked in surprise and looked down at the frail looking girl that stood before him, "You're-?"

"Yep," she answered before he finished, batting her eyelashes innocently.

"But… you said your name was—"

"It is. Can we move on now?"

Ralof scowled, "You know her given name? What is it?"

Rosalia began to wander the room again, swishing the sword around to test its weight.

"Are you kidding? I'm not telling you. I've heard the rumors,"

"Rumors?" Rosalia asked absentmindedly.

Ralof nodded, "Roseheart is no mindless mercenary. She is aware of her limits—"

"Some say that awareness makes her more dangerous," the Imperial interjected.

"Exactly," Ralof continued, "She doesn't take a job she knows she can't complete, and she doesn't murder needlessly. Her last job in Skyrim she was hired by Maven Blackbriar…"

"Who asked her to kill an entire family of witnesses to Maven's illegal actions and destroy the proof they had of her alleged affiliation with the Thieves Guild,"

"Roseheart denied this request, informing Maven pointblank that she did not kill for hire and would not be able to complete the job. She refused any form of pay and left, despite the myriad of threats that Maven threw at her as she walked away,"

"The job still needed to be done, however," the soldier paused, "So she hired other, more meat headed mercs. They were told to go to this family's home and complete the job that Asta refused. The stories these mercenaries tell…"

"The ones that survived anyway… they claim that when they arrived, the family had hired one person to protect them. This person killed half a dozen men and the rest fled. Only three returned to Maven, and the wiser few went into hiding. Some say that this person was Asta herself, who presented herself to the family and warned them of Maven's plans. They hired her immediately,"

"Not for murder, but protection, which she agreed to,"

Rosalia pondered this a moment, "Hm. Wouldn't Maven simply send more after the first batch failed?"

"No one else would take the job after that, no matter how high she raised the reward. Two months later, the family vanished, along with their supposed proof," Ralof explained.

"Interesting,"

After a pause, the Imperial spoke again, "Is it true?"

"Is what true?" Rosalia met his gaze with a challenging glare, "That I do not kill innocents simply because they are underfoot? I hoped that would be true of most decent people,"

He was silenced by this, his gaze falling to his feet.

"And what of my name? What rumors exist around that?"

"Some claim that the reason that any survived at all is because they knew Roseheart personally… worked alongside her at some point, and they knew her given name. Knowing that… protected them somehow. But the ones who deigned to share it…"

"Died," the imperial filled in, meeting her gaze again, "That sounds like death for no reason to me,"

She smirked at him, "And you believe these rumors, do you? They can't both be true, can they?"

"She has a point, Hadvar. Tell me her name and we'll learn which one is true,"

"I'd rather not die to prove a point, Ralof,"

Rosalia chuckled quietly as they continued arguing and resumed her search. She found herself back at the door that had been indicated earlier and pushed against it. It was firmly locked in place, but she could feel the wood bowing at her pressure. She stepped back and glanced over her shoulder.

"Coward!"

"Moron!"

"Oh boys," she called sweetly, interrupting them.

"What?" they demanded in unison, turning to face her.

She kicked the door and it swung off its hinges into the hall behind it, "Shall we?"

They glanced at each other before following her through the door. The hall led to a short staircase, which the three of them quickly and quietly descended, listening intently for any approaching soldiers or escaped prisoners. As they rounded the next corner, the building began to shake, and the stones began to crumble.

"Look out!" the Imperial whispered, pulling Rosalia back around the corner to take cover just as the ceiling caved and collapsed.

"Thanks—what was it, Hadvar?"

He nodded.

"Well met, I suppose,"

This earned her a look of confusion as she turned away from him and led the way into a room adjacent to the hall. She stopped when she heard men talking at the other end of the room.

"This is a storeroom…" Ralof whispered, "Potions,"

Hadvar nodded in agreement, "Let's try to talk to whoever is in here with us…"

Ralof sighed but did not argue. Stealthily, Rosalia cleared the northern side of the storeroom of potions and ingredients. The dangling pheasants and rabbits caught her eye, but she needed space in her pack. Slowly she moved them forward and peered into the other side. The red armor caught her eye and she nodded at Hadvar to take the lead. He stood and walked up to them, Rosalia and Ralof trying to keep out of the way and remain inconspicuous.

"Tullius has ordered a full retreat, men,"

"Hadvar, you're alive!" the younger of the two seemed overjoyed to see his fellow soldier.

The older, a decorated captain, narrowed his eyes and peered past him, "You have refugees. Shall I dispose of them for you?"

"No," Hadvar answered firmly, holding up his hand, "We've lost enough lives today,"

The captain glared at Hadvar for a few moments and seemed that he would not be convinced, but eventually, he sighed and nodded his agreement, "Let's go, then,"

Hadvar turned to Rosalia and gave her a slight smile, "Lead on,"

"She's leading? She was one of the prisoners!"

"She wasn't properly tried, and she has not allied herself to the Stormcloaks in any way. We have more reason to trust her than you think," Hadvar defended as Rosalia pushed through them to the other end of the room.

"How?" the soldier asked, his eyes wide with curiosity.

"Gentlemen… meet Roseheart," Ralof chuckled as he passed them.

Rosalia turned to face them with a smile, taking in their shocked and impressed expressions, "Close your mouths, boys, you'll catch flies,"

With that, they proceeded, making their way out of the storeroom and down the next, steeper flight of stairs. Ahead, they could hear a fight raging.

"Kill no one," Rosalia ordered before rushing forward into the room.

"A torture room…" Ralof growled as he followed.

The torturer and his assistant were mid fight with a pair of stormcloaks when the group entered.

"Enough!" Rosalia shouted.

The stormcloaks paused and glanced over, but the Imperial torturer wasn't taking orders, and fired a bolt of lightning through the staff he wielded, hitting one of the blue-clad soldiers. He fell to the floor, groaning and bleeding. The other Stormcloak looked ready to rejoin the fight, but Ralof jumped in to stop her. Hadvar and the other two Imperial soldiers restrained the torturers.

"No! We don't have time to fight!" Ralof claimed as he stilled the angry Stormcloak.

"But look what he—"

"There's a dragon attacking Helgen, we have to get out of here!" Hadvar called, adjusting his grip on the now angry torturer.

"Let me go this instant! Do not make up such nonsense! You have no authority over me, boy! I will have you demoted,"

"Didn't you hear me?" Hadvar demanded, "I said the keep is under attack!"

"Forget the old man," the assistant declared, "I'll come with you,"

The Stormcloak that had been wounded groaned from the floor, "Don't leave me here…"

Rosalia kneeled down beside him and began to root threw her pack.

"Don't think I'll just let you lot walk out of here with traitors at your heels, unbound and armed," the torturer growled, still trying to free himself.

"That's not up to you, regrettably," Rosalia muttered as she pulled out one of the health potions she had found in the storeroom and handed it to the soldier, "Drink this,"

He gulped it down and the open wound sealed itself, but the branching black scars on his skin remained.

"Thank you," he gasped as the pain ebbed.

"Can you stand?"

He nodded.

"Good," she helped him up, "Take anything useful and let's go,"

"Sure, take all my things. Please," the torturer muttered sarcastically.

He did not fight upon his release, recognizing that he was outnumbered, but he proceeded to grumble in discontent.

"Looks like there's something in this cage," Hadvar called, pulling at the doors of one of the cages.

"Oh, don't bother with that. I lost the keys ages ago, poor fellow screamed for weeks,"

Ralof glared at him, "What is wrong with you?"

He grinned wickedly, "There is nothing wrong with me, I'm simply a man who enjoys his work,"

Ralof looked like he was about to punch him, or worse, but the argument was soon interrupted.

"Ralof, let him be," Rosalia ordered as she worked at the lock with a pick, "He'll die anyway, there's no use killing him now,"

"Thank you for your sentiment, child," the torturer replied sarcastically.

With a click, the gate swung open and Rosalia helped herself to the supplies that remained inside-A number of picks, a potion, and a bit of gold scattered over an odd-looking book. She tucked everything into her pack and then motioned to the rest that it was time to go.

"I'm not letting you leave with them," the torturer stated again, "If I can kill at least one before you put me down, then it's worth it,"

Rosalia turned to him and scowled, "Oh, you won't be killed, no no,"

He eyed her inquisitively, "I won't?"

She clicked her tongue, "I am no murderer, good sir,"

He scowled, "Then why—"

"I would simply lock you in this cage to keep you from doing us harm, that seems far more humane to me. How does that sound to you?"

"Bah! Go! Fools and traitors, the lot of you,"

Rosalia smiled humorlessly and led the way out as he called after them.

"There's no way out that way, you know…"

They descended yet another staircase leading to a wide tunnel. Three more Stormcloaks stood about the cavern, contemplating what to do next. They turned when they heard the large group enter.

"Ralof! Ulfric, is he…" the soldier paused, faltering.

"It'll take more than a dragon to kill old Ulfric," Ralof assured her, "We're trying to find a way out, you three should join us,"

"You have… Imperials with you?"

"Consider it a temporary peace agreement," Hadvar chuckled.

When they still hesitated, Ralof smiled, "C'mon, you'll die if you stay,"

This seemed to convince them, and they quickly joined ranks, eyeing the Imperial soldiers with distrust. Rosalia led them onward to find another tunnel which seemed to be boarded off.

"Alright, let's see if we can find a way out. Wonder where this goes," Hadvar pulled a nearby lever and a bridge lowered itself over a gap.

Rosalia directed her slowly growing group forward ahead of her and over the bridge before following them across. As soon as her foot left the wooden planks, the ground shook, and a rock crashed through the bridge, breaking it and blocking their way back.

"Not going back that way, I guess," Ralof sighed, "I guess were lucky that it didn't come down on top of us,"

Hadvar nodded, "We better push on. I'm sure any others will find a different way out,"

"Stream looks promising," the injured Stormcloak suggested.

Rosalia nodded and led the way forward, walking alongside the tiny stream that flowed through the cave. They followed it for about twenty minutes, their progress slow and painful, before stopping at a dead end. Groans of frustration arose from the group as disquiet and unease began to spread, several starting to lose hope in escape.

"We're doomed!" the young Imperial soldier cried, "We're gonna die in here!"

Ralof wandered off and began to look around, running his hand along the stony walls "Uhh, guys?" he called when he was a few paces away.

"We would've died back there, anyway…" the captain answered, "At least we tried,"

"We can't give up hope!" A Stormcloak insisted, "We could try to clear some of these rocks and push on… or we could go back and see if we missed a way out!"

"I'm not retracing the last 2,000 paces to see if we missed something the first time!" the assistant declared.

"Guys,"

"Well, that's your decision, but it doesn't mean the rest of us can't!"

"Hellooo,"

"You'd leave me here? All you Stormcloaks are the same! Traitors and criminals!"

"Hey!" he managed to get Rosalia's attention and called her over to where he was standing.

"You Imperials are all brainless followers! Taking orders and never asking yourself whether or not it's right!"

"You take that back!" the Imperials all drew their weapons, excluding Hadvar, who was trying to calm everyone.

"Make me!" the Stormcloaks drew there's, excluding Ralof who everyone seemed to forget about.

A few tense minutes passed, neither side wanting to make the first move and the Imperials being marginally outnumbered.

"Enough!" Rosalia barked, quieting the group, "Put your weapons away, fighting will only kill more of us. Ralof found a cave. If you're finished behaving like children, I suggest we move on,"

She led on, not waiting for a reply. Ralof and Hadvar immediately fell in line behind her, the others joining one by one as they shamefully sheathed their weapons. The small cave that Ralof found was somewhat narrower than the previous one, forcing the group to travel in a straight line, but it soon widened into a huge den covered in webs and cocoons and enormous, reeking sacks of spider eggs.

They all stopped just inside the mouth of this cavern, listening carefully. Gentle, eerie skittering could be heard above them and it wasn't long before the first spider dropped to the cave floor, bearing its fangs aggressively at them. Ralof groaned in disgust and took a tiny step back.

"What's a matter, Ralof? Can't handle a little bug?" Hadvar teased, chuckling.

"Pft… 'little'," Ralof rolled his eyes.

Several more climbed down the walls to join the first, hissing and spitting. Rosalia waited until she was certain they had all reached the cave floor before leading the group in to fight them. The fight was anything but quick. The spiders were nimble and fast, often confusing their opponents with their spindly, long legs. They were also very difficult to kill, their legs often dispensable and their thorax difficult to reach. They had small, irritating hairs on their legs that clung to flesh like painful splinters and caused rashes and sometimes blisters, that combined with their bone like fangs, their venomous spit, and their steel-strong web made them formidable fighters. They also seemed to prefer to fight in pairs, making each fight a difficult one.

Rosalia found herself between two of them, focusing her energy on defensive fighting, waiting until they tired themselves out or accidentally hit each other. One thing she found with spiders was that they tire easily, and they were clumsy fighters, tripping over their own legs or those of a companion. It wasn't long before her opportunity came along. One of them aimed to spit at her and she rolled out of its wake, putting the other right in its path. The spider hissed and screamed and covered its face with its legs, trying to remove the stinging poison from its eyes. The other, agitated by its failed attempt, launched itself at Rosalia and landed full-force onto her sword, dying instantly. When she turned to eradicate the other, she heard a strangled cry from one of the men.

"Help! Help, please!" the young Imperial soldier was caught under a spider, his sword little more than an arm's length from him. The spider had his arm in its fangs and it was trying desperately to get to his face, pushing down on him and clubbing him with its heavy front legs.

Rosalia quickly finished her spider and rushed over, but she was bombarded once more by several more. She swished her blade at the closest, slicing several of its eyes, and then turned to amputate the leg of another. The first spider let out a strangled scream-like shriek, the sound piercing and painful. Several of the group staggered and grasped their hands over their ears as their attackers pushed forward, unaffected. Suddenly, most of them were pinned to the ground, swarmed by hungry arachnids. Rosalia was surrounded now, blocked from nearly every escape and distracted by the desperate cries from her comrades.

Hope had all but left her and she was preparing to fight to her death. She eyed her challengers, glancing between them as they slowly advanced, trapping her into a tight circle of scrambling, angry spiders. It was then that she heard the crisp hiss of a blade landing its mark, a swift blur of red and silver passing just behind her mob of attackers followed by a rapid spiral into chaos. The swarm surged and several more spiders let out terrified shrieks of pain, spindly legs flailing in the broiling sea of red and black. Then, through the wall of tumbling bodies, Hadvar reached in and pulled Rosalia from the center.

They were standing near the tunnel they first came through, facing the ever-tightening ball of black. Nearby, Ralof was wrestling three spiders, which took turns scrambling over him and lunging at his face. They hurried over to help, dispatching the first one quickly while Ralof finally made contact with the spider that pinned him, kicking it away long enough to reach his sword. He then shuddered and scrambled up to his feet, helping to dispatch the other two. They made their way around the surging mass in the cave center to kill the satellite spiders, searching for others. The desperate cries had either ceased or been drowned out by the storm of insects.

As quickly as it had started, the chaos came to an end, a pool of twitching limbs and lifeless eyes was all that remained of their attackers. There were many more than Rosalia has first thought, several dozen piled on at least that many more, the cave floor buried in mangled body parts.

As things slowly settled, she turned to Hadvar, an impressed gleam in her eye, "You saved my life… that's twice now. Thank you,"

He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck nervously, "It's nothing…"

"I'm serious, thank you," she continued to eye him as he grew more uncomfortable by the second, "You have more skill in battle than you let on,"

He opened his mouth to reply, but they were interrupted by the captain, who called to them from where his young charge still lay, "He's torn up pretty bad. We won't be able to move him,"

They slowly approached, their eyes wandering over the carnage. Many of their comrades lay trampled in the sea of dead spiders, while others looked chewed and torn. The young Imperial indeed looked severely injured, his right arm broken, and a decent sized bite taken out of his shoulder. His leg was pretty badly disfigured, and he was drenched in blood. It was surprising that he was still conscious.

"We can't stay here," Ralof argued after observing the boy carefully, earning a glare from Hadvar.

"Should've let those spiders…" he mumbled under his breath.

"Just go," the soldier coughed, blood pooling from his arm and shoulder, "Leave me here… s-save yourselves, go!"

"Nonsense," the captain scowled, "This cave is secure, at least for the moment. I will remain and tend to him until he can walk. The rest of you should go, we've lost too many already,"

He was right, their group had been more than halved by this singular fight.

"A large group is clumsy and easy to wipe out, especially when so many of us are already vulnerable. If we leave in small groups, more of us are likely to survive,"

"He does have a point…" Ralof agreed, "And whoever goes first can make sure that no danger remains,"

Hadvar looked between the two of them in disbelief, "We're not leaving anyone behind here, remember?"

"I'm just saying it's a good plan, nothing more," Ralof defended.

Hadvar turned solely to Rosalia, "And what of 'Roseheart'. Does she abandon her troops?"

Rosalia met his intense gaze, opened her mouth, and then closed it again, feeling torn.

"I will stay, too," the remaining Stormcloak spoke up, her shoulders slumped in exhaustion, "I can't go on, I need to rest and… grieve,"

"You can grieve when we're safe!" Hadvar shouted, losing patience.

"Hadvar," Rosalia shook her head at him, "It is not up to you,"

"But—"

"It's not up to you, or Ralof, or me. They are people. I am no military leader and these," she held out her hand, indicating both the living and the fallen, "Are not my troops,"

She turned to face the captain, "I want you all to make it out… I wanted them to make it… but I can't lead you anymore. I'm leaving, do as you will,"

She turned to walk away, but was pulled back by her wrist, "Please, you can't—"

"Hadvar!" she whipped around to face him, her gaze cold, "I can't accept this job, I'm sorry. I will not lead these people to their deaths," she softened and smiled, "You stay, help them. Ralof too. They will be better off with either of you than they are with me,"

"What? No, I'm not staying," Ralof answered, "You only meet a legend once, and I'm not wasting this chance,"

"I…" it was Hadvar's turn to feel indecisive.

"Hadvar, just go. We will be fine," the captain told him, his arms crossed, "You can make sure of that on your way out,"

He sighed, resolution set in his frown, "Fine. I'll send help as soon as I can,"

The captain nodded and then glanced at the Stormcloak that was now tending to the young Imperial, "Someone neutral,"

"Understood," Hadvar nodded and then turned to Rosalia, who he still held tight grip on, his gaze severe, "I will go with you,"

"Great," she pulled her wrist from his grip and rubbed the raw skin gingerly, a scowl on her face.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but she turned from him and made her way to the other side of the cavern where a second cave led the way out.

"Do not slow me down,"

He exchanged a confused glance with Ralof before they both hurried to follow her.

In the next cave, they crossed a trickling stream and pulled their way to a ledge. Here, Rosalia held up her hand silently, alerting them to the slumbering bear across the stony floor. Ralof sighed in frustration.

"Great…"

Hadvar gave him an impatient look and pulled the bow from his back along with an arrow he'd scavenged.

"If I miss… be ready to attack her while she's stunned,"

Rosalia nodded in understanding as he took aim and fired. The arrow whistled through the air, heading straight for the bear's head. With a disheartening crack, the arrow snapped in half as it made contact and then bounced away, waking the bear from its slumber. She stood and growled a low, deep growl and stood to her hind legs, stretching her forepaws out aggressively.

Hadvar quickly drew his blade, cursing angrily. Ralof stood and prepared himself, rolling his shoulders back. They then both took a step forward, but stopped as something whisked past their heads, hissing as it went. Then, with a crunch, that nicked imperial blade sunk into a soft spot on the bear's snout. With a gurgling groan, the bear collapsed and did not move again.

The boys glanced at each other, as though silently asking one another if they were seeing things, and then turning in unison to look behind them. There Rosalia stood, now weaponless, a deep frown set in her lips. Ralof laughed nervously when no one broke the silence, trying to relax.

"I would regret making you angry," he half joked, attempting to lighten the severe mood that now reigned.

Finally, she moved, walking past them toward the bear, "You wouldn't live long enough to,"

He glanced again at Hadvar, who seemed also to slowly be realizing who they were dealing with. They then turned and followed Rosalia to the still body of the bear.

She wasted no time rummaging through the bones of prey that remained, finding a few coins and a dusty bottle of wine. She then wrenched the sword from the bear's head and drove it between its ribs, making sure it was really dead.

"Ready?" she asked when she was satisfied.

They both nodded in response, though needlessly, for her back was already turned and she was heading out. The air quickly began to seem fresher and light was clearly filtering in to the dusty cave.

"This looks like the way out…" Hadvar mused.

"I knew we'd make it!" Ralof answered, his steps lightening and his mood rising.

Rosalia said nothing, only pushed forward. When they finally reached the end and stepped out into open air, she leaned heavily against a nearby boulder to catch her breath, dropping her sword like she couldn't wait to be rid of it. Ralof took two bounding steps forward, his heart clearly lifted by their success and Hadvar paused near the mouth of the cave.

"You alright?" He asked when Ralof was just out of earshot.

She nodded, but she was clearly winded, and he could tell she was in pain. She was even beginning to shiver now. He observed her for a few seconds, taking in her apparent confusion and disorientation along with her continuous gripping at her wrists. She visibly flinched when another roar was heard nearby.

"Ralof, get down!" Hadvar called, lowering himself to the ground as the dragon swooped overhead, its wingbeats seeming to shake the earth.

They all watched in silence as it vanished in the horizon, like it had never been there.

"Looks like he's gone…"

Ralof marched back to them, "Let's not wait to see if it comes back. Riverwood is just down the road,"

Hadvar nodded, "Maybe we should—"

They didn't get to hear what Hadvar was going to suggest, for Rosalia spoke up suddenly.

"I need to talk to Ulfric,"

Hadvar blinked in surprise and turned to look at her. Ralof stepped forward and got his first glance at her since they'd found their way out.

"You look more like you need a healer," he tilted her face so that he could see into her eyes, to which she responded by squinting and gasping in pain, then pushing his hands away, "And your wrist! Did you do this?"

Ralof was now glaring at Hadvar, Rosalia's hand held gently in his.

"What? No, of course not! Must have been from those bindings,"

The wrist in question, and upon further inspection, both wrists, were bright red and blistering, even feverish to the touch. Her weapon wielding had not done much good for her either, as there were clear welt lines and more blistering along her fingers and palms.

"We should get her into town," Hadvar decided gravely, "See if someone can do something for her,"

Ralof nodded, but Rosalia was not having it.

"I _need_ to talk to Ulfric," she insisted. When neither responded she turned and glared at Ralof, "You'll take me to him, right?"

Ralof glanced at Hadvar momentarily before nodding in a resigned manner, "Yes… that was the plan, in any case,"

"What?" Havdar demanded, "What plan?"

Ralof sighed, "I'll explain later, we really don't have time for this. C'mon, before she freezes to death,"

Grudgingly, Hadvar agreed and they began their slow trek onward toward the nearby river.

* * *

/AN: Please favorite, follow, and review/


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